Poetry Reward

Through the Door

You thought that I was special
You said I was the one
Now I've upped and left you
Through that door I've gone
Why wouldn't you believe me
When I said to you
That I couldn't stand having you
Lying in my bed
I shouldn't deny I love you
Cause that would not be true
It's just that I don't need you
Forever in my head
It's simply not the right time
Or even the right place
All I need at the moment
Is lots of my own space
I hope that you'll believe me
Because all I say is the truth
It was honestly a case
Of it being me and not of you.

copyright 2005 Jeremy Williams

Tell us a little about yourself, Jeremy. Where do you come from and what is your ackground?

Well, where to begin eally….I am Jeremy Williams, 22 and currently live in Birmingham, England having just graduated from Hull University. I am an aspiring actor (you can see me in the films Adam, Pizza For One and I have just been cast in Mr Sweetheart – also performing Aug. 23-29 at Edinburgh Festival in a play called Poppycock!) and a keen writer. For more details about me, you can visit http://www.starfishents.co.uk/jeremy.williams

Do you consider yourself a serious poet?

I really enjoy poetry but don’t know if it is me who has to consider myself a poet. I enjoy writing and hope that others might consider me a poet.


What inspires you to write, Jeremy?

Those around me and the emotions I feel. I try to write what is in my heart and mind.


What is poetry to you?

An honest and heartfelt form of expression. A release.


What made you start writing poetry?

About a year ago a friend (who is a singer) wanted some lyrics, so I said I’d have a try. Since then, I’ve been getting more and more into poetry as a written form.


Why do you continue to write poetry?

For my personal enjoyment, I like to put my thoughts on paper. It clears my mind and helps sort things into an order.


What is your favorite poem by a renowned poet?

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

Are you a published poet? Do you have a published book of your poetry?

I wish! I would absolutely love to get my work published – have already divided poetry into anthologies on my PC!! If anyone out there would like help my dream come true, then please let me know.


What is your honest opinion on your own poetry?

I like my poetry as I feel it is a reflection of who I am. I am very honest in my writing and am pleased that people seem to enjoy reading it. However, even though I appreciate others liking my writing, I actually write for myself and for own reward.


Do you think poetry can only emerge from been gifted with a talent? Can we create a poet for example through writing courses or poetry workshops etc?

I think anyone can write or be a poet, however, I think certain people are >born with gifts. A good poet has a natural way with words in my opinion.



Do you agree that poems can be well designed? In what you think poetry can be designed?

I think poems shouldn’t be restricted to a certain form. Many people talk about set structures for a poem and if a poem doesn’t fit into that pattern, feel it is a bad poem. I actually disagree, I think if the poem conveys its message and moves the reader then the poem has worked. I think sometimes people design a poem, using images and words that they know will move
their reader, in that way poetry can be designed.


In which mood do you feel the urge to write a poem?

Mostly when something is playing on my mind, either in a good or a bad way. I think it is easier to express your feelings when you are down, upset or confused about an issue but simply due to the fact that when you are happy you are caught with expressing that emotion in a different way.

Where do you want to go with your poetry?

I would love to get some work published but realise how hard it is. It is one my ambitions.


Where can find your poetry?

A lot of it is online at Jeremy Blog. Please pop along and any feedback would be great! If you know of a publisher or literary agent, let me know!


What is your purpose of having a poetry blog…is it an aspiration that you maybe one day your poetry will be discovered??

Who isn’t?

Can poetry make a difference in the world?

I think it is really hard for anything to make a difference in the world on a very large scale, however, I do feel that poetry and all other art forms can affect individuals. I feel that is just as significant. Even if only one person reads my poems or sees one of my plays and is moved, then I have done a good job. I think it is a very romantic notion to think we can change the world, only very very special people have that ability, some use it positively others not so.

which of the your poem is your favorite? and why?

That is really hard to say.. I do really like Through The Door as it is about an ex, it sums up exactly how I felt at that moment for me. Twenty-Two is a very accurate representation of who I am and Always Based Myself On Others also is representative of me. I also think Cat and
Mouse would be perfect for a Cat food advert!

What does your family think of your poetry?

They seem to enjoy it. Luckily I have a very supportive family who realise that the trades I wish to enter are difficult and are there to support me all the way. Sometimes they don’t agree with what I have to say or worry if I write something negative, however, this is only a natural reaction.

How important is writing poetry to you? What does writing poetry
mean to you?

I love writing poetry because it helps me keep a clear mind. I constantly get fresh ideas and walk around with a book to write them down. Poetry is merely one of my forms of expression, I only hope I do it well.

Take a look at my poems and short stories: http://jemidgimi.blogspot.com

Laughter

Laugh a minute

That it wasn’t

But the laughter

Show a good time

Was what we had

Maybe we argued

Along the way

But look at us now

Still friends today

Lets remember the fun

That we shared

Remember always

We only argued

Because we cared

Where Next?

This is the beginning
Not the end
Now is the time
You’ll become my friend
What we had before
Wouldn’t have lasted
That is for sure
It was just a fad
A passing phase
It was good fun
Never anything bad
And I am glad of
Those times we had
But now let’s move on
To something else
Forever friends
Could we ask for more?

UNDISCOVERED POET

~My Poetry ~
A quiet place for my undiscovered poems, thoughts, and pearls of wisdom.

born to catch butterflies on her tongue

She was born to catch butterflies on her tongue.

With shooting stars in her eyes,

she would wait for the rain

to wash the day

out of her hair.

Sitting on a small, dry patch of grass,

she closes her eyes

and waits

anticipating the flutter on her tongue.

As a child

she advised balloons

how to bounce and stretch.

She interrogated hens

until they told her

the truth.

When she tires, she closes her eyes

and shrinks to the size of a pea,

and hides under a maple leaf

in the backyard.

She feels safe there

resting and dreaming

of a world filled

with butterfly wings.

~My starting point~

My name is adrian. My pseudonym is stan laurel. I am from Denver, Colorado, USA. I don't believe that my writing is American just because I am from the USA. My writing reflects me, and if that includes bits of my heritage (being German), then so it does. Otherwise, I write about life.

Unfortunately, poems do not appear out of thin air. It is not as though, at any given time, I am walking around with a beautiful poem floating in my head, and all I have to do is grab pen and paper. Many times, I start with a simple idea, possibly an emotion I am experiencing at the time. This is my foundation. All of my poems are autobiographical. They are created from within. Once I have something important to write about, I can begin. This is where some magic is involved. Although entire poems do not float into my ear, I do experience certain phrases or word combinations that sound pleasing. I write whatever idea, word(s), phrase(s), and/or sentence as quickly as I can in order to capture the entirety of my mind. Finally, I begin to write a poem. I write around the words or phrases I wrote on paper earlier. Many, many, many revisions ensue, and after some time, I am ready to share my poem. It is important to note that (1) writing is a skill that increases with repetition. The more you write, whatever genre, the easier you can express your ideas; and (2), revision is a sometimes never-ending process. It is difficult for me to imagine any of my poems as “complete.” There is a point, however, when you have to let go and see if your poem is going to fly.

~Poetry to me is~

I write because it feels good.
Poetry means so much. It is how I capture my life for others to relate, enjoy, or just read about. It is a way for me to obtain a form of immortality. Poetry is also therapeutic. It allows me to relax and see things with hindsight.

There are too many poets, writers, and other people who have influenced/inspired me. I will try to name a few: Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, Sylvia Plath, J.D. Salinger, Joseph Heller, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, William Faulkner, James Joyce, Alice Walker, Henry David Thoreau, Franz Kafka, Lewis Carroll, Lao Tszu, William Shakespeare, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Edgar Allen Poe, Langston Hughes, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Carl Sandburg, William Carlos Williams, Ezra Pound, Marianne Moore, T.S. Elliot, E.E. Cummings, Ogden Nash, Theodore Roethke, Elizabeth Bishop, Gwendolyn Brooks, Robert Lowell, Richard Wilbur, Allen Ginsberg, W.D. Snodgrass, John Ashbery, Anne Sexton, Richard Howard, Adrienne Rich, and many, many others.

A shower in the summertime

The hot, dry wind

blows against my clean, wet hair.

My shorts stick to the

backs of my wet legs.

A shower in the summertime

makes the dry heat

feel refreshing.

~My Poetic Achievements~

My only poetic achievement is my collection of poetry. I have compiled my poems on my poetry blog and hope to publish a book of poetry some day.

~My Aims in poetry~

My main goal in writing poetry is to please my own mind. I do enjoy sharing my poetry with others and welcome any constructive comments.

~I end over here~

Write! Write! Write! Read! Read! Read!

The Candle's Flame

The candle's flame

flickering in its bowl,

flashes a butterfly's shadow

upon the wall.

Its patterned wings flutter.

The rim of the bowl

curves the butterfly's wings

making an arched span.

Simple in beauty, hovering on the wall,

complex in specifics,

I admire its beauty

until a gust of wind

extinguishes the butterfly's flight

(it's soul rises up, pours into the sky, anddisappears).

Everything else you need to know about me can be found at my personal blog: http://undiscoveredpoems.blogspot.com/

Hopless Poet with his Hopeless Rhymes

“Sometimes the person gets very depressed so he starts writing depressing stuff and they turn out to be good so even after the depression period had ended he continues and finishes the good piece of writing for the joy of it. I write because that makes me feel good and I think it has something to do with my self-esteem”

These are the words of Hopeless Poet, a poet where he emerged from the shores of the Arabian Gulf. The silence of the wind blowing from the seaside, shattering the grains of sand. In sublime of the waves a poetic voice was born, like a mystical ocean in its uniqueness, he too wanted to remain a mystery. “I called myself Hopeless Poet. It was when I started my blog. You can say I was in a hopeless mood. I don’t like to put my real name online but if anybody chatted with me I wouldn’t mind telling my real name and many other things that I won’t post in my blog or anywhere else online!” He explained the reason for being anonymous.

He never thought he will become a poet “I never imagined myself writing poetry when I was a kid. And actually I used to make fun of the whole poetry thing! My older sister and my younger brother started writing before me and I think they were surprised to see me writing. You can say that I am a late boomer.” Hopeless Poet recalls his past, and smiling as he continues on his memory lane. “It was 2002, I was driving the car back from a repair shop and I composed the lines in my mind and when I arrived home I wrote them in a paper. My 1st poem was “The Old Man”. I don’t know if what I have is a talent in writing poetry or not, but I can say that 2002 was the start. Then I stopped for a while and returned in 2004 and didn’t stop since.”

The Old Man

I saw an old man walking in the street

He hardly walks as he pulls out his feet

Trying as he might to lose the crowd

And failing in that I may should add

I wonder why his face looks so recognizable

He never looked my way like I was invisible

I swear I saw that face before

Where and when, no answers and nothing more

A face that filled my heart with terror

Oh god I remember I saw that face in the mirror

Where did I go wrong in my life?

Why does time wound more than the knife?

Where is my family, where are the loved ones?

I feel lonely and I live in sadness

I tried to shout I tried to scream

Only to hear the phone ringing, and thank god it was only a dream

Copyright Hopeless Poet

Hopeless Poet defines himself as "classic wannabe", his poetry are rarely other than rhythmic structure. When writing its all about the poem itself, “When I write a poem I don't think of a style of my own and my only goal is for the poem to be as good as I can make it to be and since I am not a native speaker of the English language I have to search and check if some words are acceptable to be put with other words and for grammar purposes and so on. Many things around inspires me. A nickname I may like or a line in a song or a chat with a friend or a dream,” he says. He opt his passion by reading collective work of classic poetry and the work of William Blake, William Wordsworth, Rupert Brooke, Bronte Sisters, Robert Lee Frost, Edgar Allan Poe and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow seem to inspire and influence his poetry. “The poet in me decided to read classic to improve”, he affirms.

Though his words is not published in form of a book, Hopeless Poet has gained popularity through World Wide Web, “It allowed me to post my poems in specialized sites and my own sites and get feedback and support from the readers. But I admit I was very reluctant to post any of the poems because I was afraid that some will steal them and post them under their names and get all the credit. At the end I opted to post”.

Lost

Looking at the mirror close enough
Wondering about yourself
Thinking about your old memories
That were forgotten upon an empty shelf
Pictures of loved ones scattered around the room
Frameless and dusty
That old bed of yours
The steel posts are rusty
You remember the sleepless nights you spend
Thinking about that someone
About your dreams and fantasies
And how they all come to none
Shattered just like that window's glass
Broken into pieces and scattered on the floor
No matter how hard you try to pick them up
They are there to wound and hurt you more

Copyright Hopeless Poet

He strongly advice, “Read as much as you can from others work and don't be shy to let others read your work and give their opinions and don't feel down when they criticize and point out the mistakes in the poems you have written.”

“At the end, I would like to thank you Nasra for giving me this opportunity to answer questions about myself and my poetry. And I also would like to thank the readers for their continuous support and comments, without them I wouldn't be where I am right now.”

Ocean of Secrets

Do we dare to explore

What goes beyond that shore

To risk and take the chance

How far we'll advance

In reaching deep inside

To the mysteries that resideWithin your lonely heart

And the battles taken part

The struggles between right and wrong

The endless attempts to stay strong

Will we ever be able to reach out?

And get to know without a doubt

To reveal the secrets that you hold

The tales that never been told

Or we're gonna drown in your oceanA

nd get lost between chaos and confusion

Like those before who went astray

Trying to find your secret hideaway

Copyright Hopless Poet

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